Sonata 14
by Romipen
Summary: Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared. / Post RE5
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom

**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.

**A/N:** This is the second half to Opus 15. I highly recommend reading the first part – this is a direct continuation. Opus 15 can also be read as a stand alone.

* * *

The first time Albert Wesker had died, there had been that initial blinding pain. Overwhelming to the senses, omnicient. Shocking the world from reality. There had been the pain, and then there had been black. A lucid black. Deep and cooling. Calming.

Then Albert Wesker had awakened; he had risen from death. He was Charon, sailing the river Styx, and everything was different. In enough time, he would come to understand just how different. Perhaps never fully. The man who had died had perished; what had risen had only begun to take form.

..

The second time Albert Wesker had died, there had been that pulsing, burning pain. Overwhelming to the senses, omnicient. Searing the world from reality. There had been pain, smoldering, and then there had been black. A leering black. Deep and yawning. Consuming.

Then Albert Wesker had awakened; he had risen from death. He was Icarus, he had sailed too high, and now everything was different. In enough time, he would come to understand just how far he had burned his wings. Perhaps fully. The monster who had died had perished; what had survived was a salvaged form.

* * *

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom

**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.

* * *

She was a rather unremarkable girl thrust into rather remarkable circumstances -

and that's how Sherry Birkin understood herself. Unremarkable in remarkable, and often terrible, circumstances; haunted memories. Old dreams, forever trying to escape, but never succeeding. Her bitter-sweet symphony. But every cloud has a silver lining. She liked to believe that. She had to.

Especially when flying into a storm.

Sherry Birkin was unremarkable. But sometimes, under certain conditions, being unremarkable was in itself, _remarkable_. She was a good person, despite the sinister world she was born into. She lived honestly, she was independent from a lifetime of neglect, and her altruistic tendencies appealed to better nature. And what was that saying? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? She liked to believe that. She sort of had to.

Especially when she was flying into a storm.

Sherry's unremarkable compounding worked to see her through every obstacle thrust before her. Obstacles, most of the time, she didn't deserve. Raccoon City, G-Virus, Wesker, and now currently - Ada Wong.

Ada Wong, who was at the moment desiring nothing more than strapping on a parachute and allowing the NH90 to fly its cargo straight into the ocean. But Sherry Birkin, unremarkable girl, was using her remarkable ability to appeal to better nature. It was a hard task, for Ada was appalled-

and they were riding into a storm.

..

Something was in the wind. A cold foreshadowing some tempest. The weather predicted a storm was coming. Sherry watched, cup in hand. They predicted it would arrive within the week.

Greg took a seat beside her, glancing up at the mounted screen. "Chance of rain?"

"Just a little."

He shrugged out of his lab coat. "Well, at least we'll be dry in this bunker."

"Yes, very cozy."

"Nothing like a warm Bunsen burner for a rainy forecast." He scrubbed at his face. "So what are you having for lunch?"

She looked down at her cup and took a small sip. "Actually, I'm . . . having lunch with someone."

"Oh yeah?" He searched her face. "Is it that woman from TerraSave again?"

Sherry stared down at her cup.

Claire Redfield had finally found Sherry Birkin. Some part inside of her had finally healed. Some part inside Sherry had finally stopped bleeding. Claire had her brother and she had Sherry; she had her family. Sherry had Claire. She was told she had family. Sherry hadn't had a family since Raccoon City.

Every cloud has a silver lining. Even the darkest.

..

Sherry was staring across at Ada. "I know that-" The craft rocked against the hard sky, Ada looked away for a moment. "-I know that it doesn't make sense to you. It wouldn't make sense to anyone. You don't understand, how could you? You've always been given the means to take care of yourself. You've never been left behind."

"Sherry-"

"Ada, don't. Please. I have to do this. He did it for me."

Ada watched her, pity regarding the girl. She bit her lip, swaying in her seat, and answered resolutely, "Sherry, I can't allow you to do this. I'm sorry for whatever reason is compelling you to act, but I won't complete this mission. I return your funds." She lowered her voice, a hard warning. "He's a monster, Sherry."

"I can't force you." It was a soft sort of understanding. "I know I can't." Sherry pulled a chute-pack off the wall-mount. "But you abort alone."

Ada shook her head, dark hair tossing in disbelief below the headset. "Sherry, don't do this, it's not worth it. Whatever you think he is, he's not. Do you even know what he was trying to do? He's not human."

"Human?" Sherry held out the pack at arms length. "Once upon a time, his eyes were blue - and even when they weren't, he was still the only one who came back for me. It's not a matter of human or not, Ada, it's about what was done for a little girl. That's what this is about."

..

"It's about saving lives. Making a difference."

Sherry listened.

"If what we suspect is true, then Tricell is in possession of illegal biological weapons. They will be caught lying in regards to where they gather their B.O.W. samples and prosecuted for possessing illegal bio-organisms. We may even be able to finally verify just how deep into the Kijuju conspiracy Tricell really was."

"But I've never _seen_ anything to suggest that the company possesses any biological weapons of any sort."

Claire raised a finger, a smile tugging on her full lips. "True, but here's something of interest. Our sources have informed us that Tricell facility A is airlifting sensitive research and equipments to facility B. Facility B was a private island of the Travis family, bought for the growing company. Public knowledge is that after the founder's death, the island was vacated and ceased to be used."

"Then why ship high-priority materials to a deserted island?"

"Because it was never really deserted. The island was used as a clever guise to hide research of highly classified nature. TerraSave is due to arrive at Facility A for cooperated efforts in two weeks. We think they're going to airlift sensitive material to the island for safekeeping, and they're going to do it before this storm hits. Otherwise, they'll risk being grounded, and TerraSave will be arriving on their doorstep."

"So what can I do?"

"Our intel informed us that Facility A is making a stop here for pick-up and refuel. That's our window of opportunity. The only hindrance is that we don't know the date they plan to move."

"You want me to find out."

"Sherry, you're the only one we can use."

..

Sherry had won. Even though Ada protested and promised to simply leave - with or without her - Sherry knew she had won. Ada wouldn't abandon her, for Sherry placed her fate in the woman's hands, and her appeal to Ada's better nature won out. It was remarkable.

Still, it didn't stop the older woman from griping.

"This is crap. I can't believe it - I shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here. _He_ shouldn't be here!"

Sherry gave a tired smile and dropped down in the co-pilot chair across from her. Ada refused to even look at her. Her jaw was tight, her delicate red lips pursed, and somewhere behind the shades, Sherry knew she was glaring out the window. Rain started to patter against it.

"Don't touch anything or we really will crash."

They were silent for a long while, the NH90 rocking slightly against the windy turbulence over the Atlantic span. Any sounds of rain weren't heard above the rudders. It was a while more before Ada finally spoke up.

"You never mention my name to him. You don't mention me at all. You tell him you hired some other fool to help you, and you had him dealt with later. I've just begun to feel like I'm free to live again, the shadow's gone, and only to find that he's-"

"I know." Sherry was soft but forward. "I won't mention you."

Ada finally cast a sidelong glance at the resolute and haunted looking girl. She felt a strange pang of – regret? Pity?

"Where are you taking him?"

Sherry gazed out over the thick gray of the rolling sea, pushing sandy hair under her headset. "To the same place he took me."

There was something on the wind, heavy and palpable. They were flying into it. The clouds grew darker, and Sherry kept watch for silver linings.

* * *

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom

**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.

* * *

It is an ethereal feeling, time stopping. Everything becomes white noise, soft like snowfall. The only thing felt is the blood pounding, thoughts running as if they can bring back the flow. She felt cold and numb; trapped. Captured in a moment. He was like a ghost before her, ethereal blue. That feeling, she couldn't say whether it was a dream or some haunted memory. He looked like a dream, floating outside time itself. An apparition. Her mind denied what it saw; he was _dead_.

..

There was something about being needed, about being dependable, that flared bright and hot within Sherry Birkin. She didn't wonder at it. A lifetime of failed commitments, but Sherry never failed to be that: Dependable. So it was with much twisting remorse that she betrayed Claire. It stole the breath from her lungs, like the helicopter leaping for altitude. Sherry watched Claire grow smaller and smaller - and continued to watch long after they had left her far behind. It was a sour trade, having to abandon one commitment for another. Those bright eyes, the shock, watching as she pulled away into the pitch with those beautiful blue eyes - and that exposed dismay. Claire didn't understand. Sherry understood that, because Sherry didn't understand. Not really. Some things you didn't have to understand.

After a while Sherry got up from pinched knees, legs tingling. Everything below them was black, she had no way of telling what was beneath. The sky in the east had a shade of purple she could barely see. Save for the light of the craft, the sky was as empty as the silence; the silence beyond the whirring of the blades. Massive. Heavy.

They got away. They were free. For how long? How long before they started hunting for what was stolen? Would they find them? Maybe not. Maybe it was too risky to chase them down. Who knew about the estate in Colorado? No one.

She cast a glance at the glowing transport-pod. The light reflected from the interior- a cold blue. An empty blue caught in time. Evanescent shadows.

The pilot, the beautiful pilot, turned her head. She could be heard over the rudders.

"Shut the door."

Sherry looked once more at the sky, then she heaved. They were shut away from the world.

..

For Sherry, there was something about being needed, about being dependable, that flared bright and hot. She didn't need to wonder at it. A lifetime of failed commitments, but Sherry never failed to be dependable. So it was with much volition that she consented to Claire's strategy.

The plan had been simple enough.

A transport would be arriving at the facility. It would refuel, pick-up, and depart. The mission objective was obtaining data on what the transport carried, and for what purpose. What cargo was so important that it had to be hidden so far from convenience to the company? Perhaps incriminating evidence. Evidence that would prove the entire company was behind the African epidemic, just as guilty. They needed to find out. Sherry was to help them.

Cooperation between both parties was civil. Terrasave and Tricell worked jointly in aiding the Kijuju region. As such, Tricell had established a relations branch to manage activities with Terrasave. It was a profitable election; the company could monitor Terrasave personnel, assist in bi-company research, and also effectively protect the Tricell company.

Terrasave, however, would be taking advantage of the relations program. It offered unique opportunities. One lifted personnel passcard and a few borrowed props and Sherry Birkin would be just another relations coordinator. It could work. If they kept focus, got what they needed and disappeared, it _would_ work.

..

Amber Daley. She was Amber Daley of Tricell relations. She was currently down in communications to run a list of checks for security. The staff was nettled; they were wasting time with relations branch again. They gave her a docket, told her everything was smooth for Tuesday, attached a brief and reminded her that Terrasave was to be off the property by the evening before. They just wanted her happy. They knew their job. Don't worry, we have it under control. Go file your safety checks, let us get back to work. Sherry nodded, garbled to them, and neatly tucked the information into her clipboard.

She was passing along a counter, glancing at a monitor screen, when the operation became void. Done. Ended. The plan was just white noise. She stopped and froze and the mission didn't matter. None of it mattered within a moment. Moments frozen in time. Soft as snow fall. Everything was irrelevant between a heartbeat - Then, like some great cascade, the blood came rushing, the only sound in the muted shock. Silent denial. An electronic notice flashing dully, ethereal blue glowing forth.

On the screen, like a haunting, were images of Albert Wesker.

She felt denial, her mind playing tricks. The images were small, an attachment window left open. The bar was blinking, it read: BOW PROJECT A/W. The notice was visible; it highlighted on supplies requested for the subject. She felt numb as acceptance slipped through the cracks. He was there, floating in time, cold and spectral. Her eyes darted to the drive in the side of the computer and with a covert glance she noticed the scientists had moved to a cooling unit across the room. They came back and signed off on her papers and Sherry left. Neither scientist noticed the empty drive.

All night she sat on her bed, computer glowing pale against her face. Sherry Birkin did not sleep.

* * *

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom

**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.

* * *

Poetic justice_ – noun; an ideal distribution of rewards and punishments such as is common in some poetry and fiction. The rewarding of virtue and the punishment of vice, often in an especially appropriate or ironic manner._

Somewhere in her education she had learned the definition. It was one of those minor smarts; a polished discernment. She could recognize the justice even as she carefully loaded the correct dosage into the hypodermic needle. The scientist had become the experiment. What had been an untouchable power was now a vulnerable weakness. She flicked any air out of the syringe, checking the measurement. The orchestrator had ended up nothing more than further biological research. Albert Wesker was just another Umbrella leftover.

..

In the morning, Sherry had briefed Claire's Terrasave group in regards to Tricell's classified air-transport. Three days. They would have three days to prepare. Her acquired paperwork notified them of the date and time of the play - 2 A.M. on Tuesday morning. The cargo, however, had maintained its mystery. Sherry had admitted she was unable to access any information regarding it. Terrasave remained undaunted; they would carry out the mission as planned.

Sherry would be well away for the proceedings. After mission completion, Shelly Williams would leave Tricell and begin her new career as Sherry Birkin of Terrasave. She would regret abandoning Greg, but there was nothing left for her to stay. She would work with Claire, she would see Leon again, and she would meet Chris. There was a bright new future. Only Sherry could see the clouds gathered on the horizon. For a while, she let herself pretend she couldn't.

..

It was a strange and unsettling feeling – how much she was a sudden echo of her parents. Consumed in her work. Surrounded by equipment. Absorbed in the subject at hand.

"_You remind me of your parents, Sherry."_

She hadn't wanted to be down in the labs. Their stark emptiness was a sterile and unwelcoming environment; she was sure he had endured enough of them for the time being. As ridiculous as it may have seemed, she insisted on setting up in the lounge. Windows, books, and color – a home. He was positioned on the large sofa and sprawled around were all the tellings of the basement laboratory. She would have to administer the drugs; she was aware. She had read over the report several times. Top to bottom. Start to finish. She was aware of the circumstances.

From the ashes, Tricell had discovered the greatest biological weapon to date – remnants of perfection. Over months of time it had rehabilitated into something they could use. It was dangerous and intelligent and offered possibilities previously unattainable at such a level. It was a building block, and it suffered for their research; like so many before. Poetic justice.

She carefully loaded the correct dosage into the hypodermic needle and marveled over her actions. So much thrown away on something she didn't even understand. So much misery and death, unforgivable deeds. The hands that had pulled her from perdition, dripping with blood.

"_You remind me of your parents, Sherry."_

She flicked any air out of the syringe, checking the measurement, and leaned in close. Faster than she could understand, his hand was around her neck, squeezing. He shouldn't be awake yet. The air was robbed from her lungs and something painful was welling up beneath iron fingers, digging into her throat. She stared at his eyes, burning like a flame, and was frightened by the feral rage. He wasn't supposed to be awake yet. She suddenly understood the report's warning - "_do not remove sedatives_". The syringe clattered to the floor as she clawed at his grip.

"_You remind me of your parents, Sherry. Just don't follow in their mistakes."_

Something was dawning beyond the snarl, beyond the glowing embers, the inhuman slits, narrow like a cat's. His fingers twitched sharply and she pulled with what was left.

"SH-SHERRY!"

And just as simple as her statement, his hand recoiled sharply from her throat. She threw herself away, crashing past tables, stumbling over her legs onto the floor. She hacked and gasped and rubbed her raw neck. He was sitting up, staring across at where she was collapsed. She was frightened, shocked, and she glanced warily at his position.

He was taking stock of his surroundings, slowly turning his gaze along the four walls. Maybe he recognized the room. He hadn't recognized her. Why would he have? He remembered only a little girl. A sudden terror seized her. What if the man she had known was dead – what if this was something else entirely? _Just don't follow in their mistakes._ She trembled. His gaze turned back to her and she went cold all over. Maybe he saw her fear. His eyes had stopped burning so fiercely. She tried her voice – it was small in the space between them.

"Wesker?"

He was regarding her from his spot, silent. She thought he hadn't heard her. It was a moment before he tried his voice – it was raw in the space between them.

"Sherry Birkin."

_

* * *

_

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom  
**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.  
**A/N:** This update is dedicated to Chaed. It's amazing what reading some good fiction will do to stimulate a person's muse. C:

* * *

Everything had the odor of disuse; it was a confining smell. Everything was soft around the edges, padded with dust and poor lighting. She had gone through most of the estate, opening windows to let in crisp air and fresh light into the rooms. The old mansion was starting to breath again, shaking itself awake. She didn't know whether it would matter to him, but it mattered to her and so she had done it.

She stood out on her balcony, doors behind her gaping wide, and considered her situation. Where did one go from here? The surrounding forests offered up no solution and she couldn't hold it against them. There would be no easy answer for this.

She thought briefly of Claire, but the sting was too fresh and her mind quickly flinched back to the present. She was standing on her balcony and once again in her life utterly lost without direction. Somewhere in the walls of this secluded, forgotten estate, Project W stalked about like some wounded predator - and she could only muse over the situation.

She reflected over her parents, and in some third party sort of way, wondered if she had become a reflection of their choices. Sherry couldn't be certain whether she was resigned by the novelty or frightened by it - standing out in the numbing breeze - and retreated quietly back into her room.

..

Sherry was down in the library when he found her. She hadn't spoken to him since his initial revival - they had only briefly discussed the current circumstances before he had gone off to the more remote areas of the estate. It wasn't that she couldn't find him, it was just a strange sensation that those were _his_ places, and she knew better than to invade his space. So she was down in the library, discarding of the last of the laboratory supplies when she saw him again.

Wesker was a quiet shadow that advanced into the room. Sherry turned and found herself staring at him completely unabashed. She was the little girl all over again and he was the dominating figure in black, unreadable behind dark lenses, freshly washed hair swept back. He had trimmed the excess length in all that gold and the rough edge to his jaw was shaved back to smooth. He was no longer some haggard creature burst from its bonds - he was a predator back in control. The transformation was striking and at the same time a breath of the familiar. It put her to a strange state of ease.

"You look... exactly the same," she marveled.

He didn't outright respond to the comment, but she saw him acknowledge it in a tilt to his stance. He was here for a reason, for everything he did in his life was deliberate and for some personal gain.

"We have work to do," he drawled, and his voice was back to its razor-edged precision.

It wasn't so much the way he had said it rather than the notion of what was entailed in the simple phrase that sent a spike of anxiety through Sherry.

She hesitated.

"What sort of work?"

..

It was the compound; TC37/PW-13. She wasn't surprised in the slightest. She had known from the start that he would not tolerate the dependency on Tricell's contingency trigger. They were lucky, as it were, that the stasis-tank transporting him was well equipped with the serums needed for his stability. He was down in the labs with the abandoned equipment and already at work dissecting it, pulling at the strains and working his mind for a suitable replacement, something to be thinned and eventually dropped. He couldn't just quit taking the drug in one dive. Tricell's compound was now a part of his make-up. The report had detailed that in restoring his destroyed form, Tricell had immediately created a dependency upon this deficiency serum. By denying him the full spectrum of the PG-strain, they created a dependency only supplemented by a regular intake of the Tricell compound. If anything should reach beyond Tricell's control, if there were any projected outbreaks or in the case of Wesker's escape, his deficiency would destroy him. Without a regular level of the serum, his virus would become autoimmune. It was a simple and clever trigger, but Tricell had never counted on his having the resources that he currently possessed.

TC37/PW-13 was their new project and Sherry was also unsurprised that Wesker was using her once again as a subject of experimentation, drawing samples from her. From studying the reports and appreciating the situation at hand, Sherry had gathered that somewhere along his way, Wesker had botched his own viral-strain. He had pushed and pushed for perfection, for more and more advancement, and at some point it had backfired. His strain was unstable and he required regular doses of stabilizer to keep everything in balance. He had damaged something. William Birkin's God-virus had been warped by Uroboros - the malignant and devouring cancer that it was. So it was invaluable that at hand he possessed the sole surviving Birkin - Sherry, who perhaps contained all that was left of the original G-virus. Her G-antibody, some remaining taint of the virus lying neutralized in her structure. Wesker would find it, she did not fool herself into believing he wouldn't be able to, no matter how many years of time had elapsed since when the virus had run rampant through her system. He would find it and use it to develop an aid to neutralize TC37/PW-13 and be rid of Tricell's last hold.

It was the nightmare and she knew - _knew_ - that she would never really be rid of it.

How could she, when it was a part of her? When it was in her blood?

..

She had to swallow her situation when she read over the brief correspondence from Ada.

Sherry was a fugitive. The BSAA was currently being deployed to locate and apprehend her. She was a criminal, having stolen unnamed but invaluable research from one of the Tricell facilities.

Ada wrote to her of the suspicious but understandably calm attitude Tricell Corp projected outwardly. She advised Sherry to lie low, however, to expect that the company would be using its own private methods of getting back its research. Ada informed her that the TerraSave Organization had listed Shelly Williams on its high-alert and that the BSAA wanted her found in the same regards as any other bio-terrorism threat.

There was a cold pit spreading low in her gut. Something numb and tingling.

Ada had written not to contact her back. Ada had said she'd notify Sherry of any new, pressing developments. Ada wished her luck.

Sherry saved the message.

There was a fragile hope, like a wounded butterfly, that somehow Claire hadn't abandoned her. That if she was still assumed Shelly, then there was still a tie binding them. It was a fragile hope.

..

Down in the lab he drew samples from her and worked with a relentless and mechanical efficiency. Down in the lab she assisted and thought of her parents and searched for some glimmer of hope in something good. Down in the lab she cautiously thought on Claire and cautiously hoped for redemption.

Sherry was looking for silver linings in dark clouds.

* * *

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom

**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.

**A/N:** This chapter is so uncharacteristically long. I apologize for the wait and hope that having a bit more to read will appease your anger.

* * *

Days were a silent thing. The estate was saturated in the silence and they worked within its confines. Even the surrounding woods were a still place, like years ago the mountains themselves adapted an aversion to the secret odor of these hidden things. Like the natural world knew better. Days were spent nestled in the deaf embrace, and Sherry was always startled whenever he interrupted the unending flow.

They had been working (always working) down in the lab. She had pulled a slide for him and when at his side as he slipped it under the clips Wesker had asked her in the easiest of ways, like drawling on about the wetness of the weather-

"Why did you come back here?"

Sherry was taken aback by the sudden break in the quiet and quickly scrambled to process the question with an appropriate response. There was something snide in his patience, watching her without watching her as she gathered an answer.

"There was nowhere else to go and this seemed the best place. No one knows about it... and it was the only place I could think of at the time."

She watched his attention pull away in fractions from the lens. Something in his fingers twitched against the knob.

"I didn't mean _now_." He dropped each word slowly, like leaving bread crumbs for a child to follow. "I mean _before_. Why did you come back here before?"

Understanding lit her eyes a bright, bright blue.

"I... how could you tell?"

There was a glimmer of self-satisfaction lining the sides of his mouth, but he didn't quite smile with a jaw screwed tight.

"It's everywhere. In the layers of dust, in the displacement of details, in the little traces left behind."

Sherry mused over that for a moment while he traded out one slide for another, taking a labeled syringe and depositing a trace amount of his blood on the glass. She watched him work, all hard lines.

"You were supposed to be dead; it was everywhere at the facility. I came back because... because I thought that you _were_ dead. I came because - well, you left me the estate, didn't you?"

He squinted down and adjusted the scope and intermixed their latest solution with his DNA on the slide and she could see his brow lift.

"Left you the estate? When did I ever entail that?"

He frowned disapprovingly down at the test and pulled away a fraction, stabbing a note down on the pad next to his hand.

Sherry dug in her pocket and placed the master key on the counter-top where he could see it.

"This was in the vault. You left me the keys to the estate, even the skeleton."

He turned his attention to her fully, and there was that old sneer in the spread of his mouth.

"I think you assume too much, Sherry. Allowing you back in and bequeathing you the estate are entirely different things. I see that you haven't grown out of that sentimental defect of yours."

She met his glittering gaze with one that didn't flinch away. A part of her stung, but the practical voice she depended on identified his acid immediately - part old habit and part new desperation. She soothed the sting numb; her part old habit and part new tolerance.

"It's time for more, isn't it?"

It wasn't quite a statement, wasn't quite a question. Something in Wesker bristled instantaneously, but he wouldn't act out, it would be too much a show of weakness. She watched something in his jaw clench as she brought the syringe.

They were cutting corners. They were thinning out the solution. They were cutting the dosage. They were testing limits. He took some, he worked, it thinned, he became like fragments of sharp glass. He paced like a tiger in a cage. She knew they would eventually deplete the supply but she insisted on a regular intake. He couldn't work without it, couldn't sit, couldn't concentrate. He would stalk around the estate and sometimes she could hear him in some corner of the mansion destroying things.

That's how it was.

There was always silence and the stillness and then eventually in some room, almost out of hearing, something would break against a wall with some terrible force - and everything would be still once again.

She had asked him once when they had first started if it was pain or just frustration. Or if it was both. He had never told her, but he never told her anything about himself. Maybe it didn't even matter. She knew enough already.

She knew that he tended to talk more when the virus started roiling, seething. She knew the process. It was something to distract him, some method to keep him grounded and force focus on the tasks at hand. Sharp like glass he would lash out like a predator stuck in a corner and she had quickly learned to tolerate it. She would never tell him how much she sympathized for him. He would hate it, and she would be forced to find a reason why she even did.

Sherry gave Wesker the diluted Tricell serum and watched as he stood and stretched his legs, watched something slowly sliding back into place.

"Let's break." He was clipped. "We'll come back to this in an hour."

She inclined her head towards the workstation.

"It's not going to take, is it?"

He didn't bother to look at her as he picked up his glasses and tucked them into the dark folds beneath his lab coat; his voice hard with frost.

"No, it's not."

..

"This will hardly help the situation at hand! You've got her on high alert and with the company already after her - and who knows what recourse they're _really_ employing-"

"It's not my call. You know there's nothing I can do about that. That's headquarters, I'm only a grunt here."

"It's ridiculous."

"You have to take an objective view at what it _looks_ like. She made off with some highly classified property. She stole sensitive biological research from a very powerful company."

"You know better than anyone that they had their hands-"

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're right. I'm not arguing. I _do_ know. But what was she doing there? Why'd she do it?"

"I don't know... I hardly know anything about her. She's like a shadow I've been chasing all these years... but you should have seen her, Chris! You should have seen her face..."

"You think she's working for someone?"

"It could be, for all I know that could be it - but it just doesn't _feel_ right. God, what if they're making her do it? What if she's in some kind of trouble? I mean, Christ, she disappeared off the map - who knows what happened to her for all those years!"

"But she hasn't tried to contact you?"

"I tried calling, but the number's no good."

"Did she have any friends while she was there? People she may have been close to?"

"No, not that I... wait. Let me think... There might have been someone."

"Claire?"

"I'll get back in contact!"

..

The time they spent out of the lab were the moments she anticipated most in the day. Fall was beginning to lay siege to the surrounding woods and the wetness bit with a cutting cold. Nonetheless, Sherry found the forest a serene escape to clear her mind and trade the sterile lab for something alive and open. It was always a happy relief to exchange the stagnant confines for something fresh and unfettered. She never felt so vividly the release until she stretched her legs and lungs out on the grounds.

Bundled in a heavy coat and sloshing through damp forest mulch, she meandered her way down one of the estate's neglected trails in no particular hurry. She plucked at leaves and stopped to grab at a long stem of grass to twirl absently between her fingers. All the while Wesker was at her side, wearing no more than his clothes from the lab. Sherry noted with little surprise that the temperature didn't seem to have any noticeable affect on him. He was back to being cool and distant, all prior agitation passed.

They walked down in relative silence to where a considerable boulder sat as a marker at the side of the path. From this post Sherry could look out past a thin spread of evergreens to a dip where the rise dropped down a ways into the forested valley. She could have found the point blind-folded, it had been a favorite spot from her childhood spent in the confines of this empty and isolated place. She paused by it and Wesker took the break in inward reflection to turn keen eyes towards her.

"Why did you request an internship with Tricell?" he asked in low tones.

She had long been expecting that question, but hearing it now didn't make Sherry better prepared for answering it. While she had explained the fundamentals of her coming to find and free him, she had choicely avoided going into particular detail about the venture. Sherry Birkin was no fool, however, and was not blind enough to think that just because Wesker hadn't initially pried, that his capable mind wasn't effectively filling in the blanks. It didn't make answering any easier, though.

She took a moment to give one last glance out to the mountains, rising to enclose the valley at the horizon, before turning reluctantly to the subject at hand.

"I knew you were involved with the company."

His face was stoic and impossible to decipher behind the dark lenses.

"When did you decide to transfer?"

She mentally counted off.

"I guess roughly four months ago I came back here after I learned you were dead. There was documentation on the activities of Tricell in Africa in one of the studies. I guess you left them here. I decided to complete an internship at Tricell at that point, I suppose. I was listening to the news regarding the outbreak and the parties involved in the aftermath. I guess I was one of the last people to know what happened."

"Courtesy of Ada Wong?"

Sherry visibly jolted. Her breath came out in a cold puff of shock.

"_What?_"

Wesker turned away fractionally but with infinite self-pleasure nearly perceptible at the corners of his mouth.

"I had my suspicions initially, granted, but your correspondences confirmed it for me."

"You went through my computer!" she accused, all shock and bitterness for not considering such an act before.

"Calm down, it's nothing that I didn't already suspect and wouldn't eventually piece together. Whatever your dealings with Ada Wong, I haven't the time or the patience to occupy myself with them. They're of little importance at the time being and I'm more amused than anything else that you elicited the help of Wong for your endeavors. What captures my curiosity more is one Gregory Rosster."

Sherry blanched. Wesker went on, his tone dropping subtly.

"I gather he must be an associate, someone from the university; he refers to you as Shelly. He seems privy to your ventures and is more than a little concerned about your current status. Actually, taking into account both notices from Rosster and Wong, it would appear you've landed yourself into hot water with the pharmaceutical consortium, haven't you?"

Sherry's voice felt small and inferior.

"Yes."

Wesker turned his gaze back on her, any previous amusement vanished in an instant.

"What do you plan to do?"

She placed her hand against the boulder and sagged there for a moment.

"I don't know." She slumped and she watched him watch her. "It was only an accident that I found out you were still alive. This wasn't some master plan in motion, it was a compulsive act of desperation. I wouldn't have even been able to accomplish it without help. Now I'm a wanted criminal, people are looking for me, and you want to know what I plan to do? I don't plan anything. I don't _know_ what to do!"

She turned from the unyielding rock to his equally unyielding gaze. There was something desperate clawing from within threatening to break out. "This was never part of _my_ plan. Stealing you from Tricell was never part of _my_ plan. The university was never part of _my_ plan. Living here in this place was never part of _my_ plan. William and Annette Birkin dead was never part of _my_ plan! I never got a chance to decide things for myself - everything was already set in motion! If anyone has plans it's _you_! You and your master plan! I went to Tricell in the hopes that I could find out more about what you had planned to do - what you were setting in motion - and then I stumbled into you there, alive when you should have been dead! So you want to know what I plan to do? I plan to do the same thing I've done my entire life - nothing. The decisions have already been made for me."

..

"Listen to me... If she trusted you so much, then she must have told you about me."

"She said some things, sure, but she never really wanted to talk about her past."

"She must have told you that we're friends at least? Listen, I want to help her. I _need_ to help her. She means a lot to me and she's in a lot of trouble."

"I'm not simple. I know the kind of trouble she's gotten into, and even if I did know anything, what would you do? I'm not an ass - I'm well aware of the measures being taken to apprehend her."

"I'm not here to arrest her, if that's what you think. We go back a ways, she and I; we went through things. I had wanted to be there for her in the past, but... I wasn't able to. I need to make that right. I need to make it up to her. Won't you help me to help her?"

"I..."

"Look, you say you understand the measures being taken against her - well we need to get to her before anyone else does, understand? Like you said, you're not simple, and there _are_ people out there looking for her."

"If they even got wind that I knew what she was doing..."

"This is classified."

"Shit. Shit. Fine, all right, but just listen to _me_ for a minute... They're painting her out to be some sort of malicious criminal, but she's not. Okay? She's a good person; she's the best person I know. What she did, she didn't do in malice. She said she had no choice."

"I know. I never doubted."

"All right. Okay, look - she found something down in the labs when your people sent her in to retrieve your intel. She told me all about your operation, she trusts me... but she didn't tell me exactly what it was that she found down there. She said she couldn't. She told me she was leaving, that she was going to steal some of Tricell's research. I was completely against it, naturally. I mean, shit! People don't just up and steal classified material for no reason! But she kept saying she had to, that she had no other option. She said that Tricell was accountable for Africa and that she had to stop them from what they were doing."

"What they were doing?"

"She never told me. She can be so damn stubborn at times. But she wouldn't give it up, and I knew I wouldn't be able to stop her. It was something to do with her secrets - she never told me about them and I never pressed. They haunted her. But hell, we've been close friend since we started at the university; I care about her. I'd be damned if I wasn't going to help her out now. So I did, but it wasn't just me. She had a contact."

"A contact? Who?"

"Little surprise but I don't know who. She just called her an 'agent' from some old company. It was that agent who hijacked the transport, that set up the entire job. I don't even want to know how she even knew someone like that... but there you have it. Seeing how things are, it was obviously a success. You won't be surprised by now to hear that I don't know where they went. However, she did promise to message me when it was safe, to let me know that she's all right."

"Has she sent you anything?"

"Not yet."

"But you have her email, I take it?"

"Of course."

"Okay, Greg, I'm gonna need you to send something for me..."

..

She wiped once more at swollen eyes, not even caring how she must look all red-eyed and puffy-faced. It had felt good to shed some of her frustration and fear. He hadn't comforted her, but he hadn't condemned her display of weakness either. Wesker had simply stood there silent but present, if not distant, to her helpless fit of misery. She imagined his cool tolerance of her emotional foray in part by his leveled viral state.

After she had better control over herself, she sniffled and pushed away from the rock. He turned fractionally towards her at the motion.

"Are you finished?"

She nodded mutely, emotionally and physically spent from her single outburst.

"Let's go." It was a command.

Sherry silently allowed herself to follow Wesker's lead back down the trail. Twilight was starting to set in, sending shadows running long across the tangled forest floor. The wind nipped with a nastier edge with the fading light, and she distantly wondered how much time they had spent out by that rock. Sherry noted dully that Wesker had slowed, turned back towards her and waited for her to catch up beside him. She was vaguely aware that he stalked casually like a panther, all slow, calculated movement. They walked in step a few paces before he regarded her with a sidelong glance.

"I gather you've fully exhausted your emotional outbursts for the evening?"

She gave a sheepish sort of nod, her cheeks tinting ever so slightly.

"Good," he continued, "because I have questions and no patience to sit through another similar display."

God, she felt so tired suddenly.

"What more do you want to know?" she sighed.

He reigned in and turned his full look on her.

"Your time at Tricell... where did you study?"

"They called it Facility C," she answered dully.

"What field?"

"Botany."

"Botany?"

Sherry nodded and gave a half-shrug of her shoulders.

"It didn't really matter where I was. I wasn't exactly there for any of that, I was there for answers."

"But while you were there, did you ever happen to hear of a man by the name of Dominic Travis?"

Her forehead drew together as she threw slow gears back in time, trying to drag out anything about that name she may have heard.

"No... I don't think so. Wait -" her face scrunched. "He wouldn't be one of _the_ Travis-heads, would he?"

"That's exactly what he is," was Wesker's low reply.

Sherry shook her head. "I was just an intern, there was no way I'd meet one of them. No, I heard that they mostly frequented Facility A when they were inclined to actually step into the work place. I heard they had their own private facilities. That's where they were sending you, to one of those."

"Did you learn why they were undertaking the transfer?"

"TerraSave. TerraSave has been working with Tricell since after the Africa incident - they're trying to prove that the company was a coconspirator with the endemic in Kijuju even though the company is claiming that the African branch was rogue. TerraSave was going to be examining Facility A, so naturally, I take it, Tricell didn't want them running into you there."

He murmured a reply, "Naturally."

Sherry watched Wesker fall into some introverted silence. The sudden lapse ignited something that hadn't quite gone out with her earlier breakdown. She took the sudden opportunity to flip the table while the moment was presented.

"So why ask me about Dominic Travis? Who is he?" Sherry watched Wesker's gaze incline up marginally to meet hers. With her fractional opening, she pried further. "What were they doing with you at Facility A? What were they trying to do, keeping you like that? Do you recall anything about it? How did they even get ahold of you?"

Wesker's answer was short, but the tone was colder than the weather and bit with more terrible promise. It was enough to instantly end any more questions from Sherry.

"_I - don't - remember._" grated on the air.

With no words between them, they stood like that for a moment more before Wesker turned sharply and continued back down the trail. Sherry followed in close step. She had instantly regretted her tactless probing. Her imagination should have sufficed for the things that he had undergone. There was a sort of shame in having carelessly dug around the wound - for a wound she knew it was to him. The intensity of her desire to uncover these hidden truths, however, was not as shamed as she. It was a terrible feeling to want to know more about these wounding secrets.

She trudged behind him in silence and didn't notice that they had reached the estate until they were upon it. It was a bit surprising that it felt a relief to be back inside where it was warmer than a wet night in the woods; granted these were stone walls and far from the warmth that a house brought. She chocked up her gratefulness to be back inside to the mansion growing on her once again; old memories and securities resurfacing. Wesker shut the great doors behind them and locked them tight with a sharp snap. From behind him in the dim lighting of the hall she watched him remove his glasses and slip them away into his shirt. She heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she broke out. "I shouldn't have asked those questions, it wasn't right."

Wesker turned to regard her and she watched his eyes, thinking them not so different from some glowing flame. He didn't say anything, but she could already tell, just by posture alone, that he didn't hold it against her anymore. It was strange, the things she hadn't forgotten through the years.

"I think I'm going down to White Creek tomorrow," she continued. "I'm not sure how much more of the canned food I can stomach, so I'll pick up some groceries. I think it's safe to say a little place like that won't be on the look-out for a wanted girl, so I'll be fine."

"That's an unnecessary risk."

She shrugged helplessly.

"I think I'll be sick if I don't get a change in diet." She paused for a moment. "And tomorrow I'll ask Greg to look into Travis. He's still with Tricell so he should be able to pry around."

Something in Wesker shifted.

"Very well."

He moved away to leave but Sherry caught his attention with a quick step and a raised hand.

"Wait, wait! I just wanted - well..." She gave a little huff and a floppy little smile and then brought her hand to brush her hair behind her ear. "I just wanted to say that despite all this, despite how bad the decision may have been and the trouble I'm in, I don't regret it. I'm glad I busted you out of there."

Wesker turned fully to that lopsided smile. Sherry would almost be able to say that he looked taken aback, but he was always a task to decipher and for all she knew it could have been exasperation. Her smile took on a more solid edge, nearly defiant. He stared back at her, and in the dismal lighting his eyes became the intensity that the rest of him lost in the shadow of the wide hall. He stared at her for a moment or two and she imagined that for the first time since coming back to this place, he really took note of how much she had grown since last they stood face to face - re-evaluating prior assumptions.

"I suppose," he murmured across to her, "that I never fully recognized how invaluable was my going back for you, Sherry Birkin."

* * *

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom

**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.

* * *

Blood is stubborn. Blood is thick; it sticks. Blood is hard to scrub away, even harder to scour its residual mark clean. It's bold; it's loud and poignant.

Blood is a stubborn thing.

If Claire thinks back to summers gone and passed, she can be certain that blood forms the thickest of ties. The fiercest of loyalties stands strong against the long pull of absence - never wains nor tires. In acres of golden sun and stark sky, the absence of months means nothing. Amidst a sharp wind and under a bright canopy - bright light pouring through the green - Claire can think back to those summers spent and gone.

They're together and they're so young.

She's home on break and they spend his days off together in the fields. He's older than her, trained and practiced, but he has a gentler spirit than her fiery enthusiasm. In her eyes he's older and stronger and she's defiant hero-worship for it. He shows her what he's learned in his training and she readily picks up the basics, eager to imitate what she can. They spend hours in this way.

It's just the two of them.

She's been asked why she does it, her reasons questioned. Don't you want a family? Someday, wouldn't you like children? Why do you keep coming back? Haven't you seen enough? It's been years, and she knows what she'll say every time she's asked. She's older and she understands things in a better light now. But she can remember being young... and thinking she knew the answers when she didn't even fully know herself.

She does it because he does it.

Her brother's her hero. He represents all she can fall back on, all that is there to have her back. She is quick and she is spirited but she lacks in diminutive grace and sexual flair. She likes sparing and dirtying her clothes. She likes learning how to fire guns and throw knives. She likes boots and bikes and how her brother makes her feel it's acceptable, even when no one else does. So when he disappears to fight the hordes of death and infection, she goes after him.

She wants to try being the hero this time.

The funny thing about heroes, Claire would later discover, is the selfless necessity of it. She had a concept of it, but no true experience in the role. She realizes her own inadequate attempt in the eyes of a frightened child - startling blue and trying hard to depend on someone, to trust in something. Claire had wanted to be a hero for blood. She had needed to find her brother. It was the blood, stubborn and resilient and impossible to scrub away. She abandons everything else for it.

She didn't understand that being a true hero means you don't focus on what you need, but on what others need.

When she is finally reunited, her concepts of bravery and rescue pale in his glow. There is no contest between them; the contrast is bold and poignant. There is a strange fierceness to his resolve, something righteous born from the torrents of vile depravity they endure. It isn't about himself, it's something he has forged for everyone else. He fills her eyes with it. Later she would ask him why he had taken it upon himself, why he had wanted to do this. They're thrust back to years gone and spent with the question, younger people following different paths. She asks him why he had wanted to be a cop, why it matters so much. He tells her -

because it's not about you, it's about them.

He had smiled at her then. He had smiled and said : we don't live forever, Claire. You can fight to keep away the bad for the ones who can't. If you can make a difference, even for one, you'll leave behind a mark to show for it. Isn't that worth fighting for? I think it is.

..

They sat across the table from each other. She was nursing a steaming cup.

So many years between them and yet here they sat.

He looked so much older, rougher. There was something marked in his eyes and a different set to his shoulders, to the angling of his posture. It was something she didn't recognize from her memories of sunlight and green. She supposed she must look equally different to his eyes; different from the sister who left her tiny hometown for college and the unknown.

She sighed and stared down into the reflecting black of her cup.

"So I suppose it's safe to say that we're being watched now?"

"Yeah."

"And he's not coming because they already took him, didn't they?"

He didn't even lift his gaze to hers.

"Most likely."

She drummed her fingers impatiently.

"So there goes our informant..." she mused humorlessly. "It's going to get pretty messy from here on out, isn't it?"

He made a short noise.

"Yeah."

She blew her hair away from her face.

"So... what's the next step, Chris?"

Dark eyes rose to meet hers. There was something set in his unkept jaw-line.

"We do it my way now."

* * *

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER:** Resident Evil © Capcom

**PLOT:** Post Resident Evil 5 / Not everything ended in Africa - fates can be forever entwined. Concerning Sherry Birkin, the girl who disappeared.

**A/N:** I know it can be a long process to wait for updates to this story, and I want to thank you -so much- for your patience and for continuing to follow my story! I appreciate my readers greatly! And I want to thank my reviewers so very much! Your words of encouragement push me to keep writing (fast) whenever I can! I'm glad I can keep you entertained! C:

..

**:** The flu will always behave like the flu. There is no hoping that it will ever sway its nature; you just have to sit tight and let the virus run its course. You can't teach an old dog new tricks.

* * *

He keeps her away from certain parts of the estate. She doesn't venture into the west wing and he doesn't welcome her into his section of the lab. She wouldn't get in without his authorization, his passcode, and the west wing... she knows better than that. The dark rooms he crawls inside when the viral desperation starts to roil and seethe, a maze of broken parts and shattered pieces; but better a vase than her face they had decided. In any regard, she always had her own places to roam as a child, and he humored her to allow her solitude there now.

At the south end of the grounds there is an old maple tree with branches as thick as her bed, a place that, in her childhood, she had climbed up and played in. Toward the east wing there is an old staircase that spirals up with a cupboard in the wall beneath it, a place she spent winter days holed up in, reading from the light of a single hanging bulb. Also there is her rock, a boulder to be more precise, most likely moved there when the estate had originally been built. Weathered and softened by the elements, it stands before a slope and a break in the woods, overlooking the valley towards the east. He knew it still to be slightly discolored, having endured countless artistic attempts at her hand. She was there now. He knew it with a calculated certainty. She was predictable to him, and he needed her to be. He needed to know her mind to such a degree. He would need such predictability for the next phase of his plan.

He read the email once more with a satisfied glance and reclined in his chair. He wouldn't have the issue of her friend contacting her any longer. Having pried into her contact list and using his system to reroute her mail directly to him first had been absolutely necessary - and had paid off well. Now, when he was ready, he would forward the letter to her and she would react according to plan. According to how he predicted of her. And for the meanwhile he was afforded time to bide until his preparations were complete; until everything was set according to his design...

..

Sherry Birkin. He mused on her. How strange that the unremarkable daughter of his closest colleague should now become so instrumental. She had always been so dismissible. If it was easy for Birkin to forget her for hours down in the labs, then it was easier for Wesker. Sometimes he forgot her existence entirely. She was of no consequence to the work they did or to the lives they led. He had thought Birkin absurd for entertaining marriage, but the younger man had always been rather eccentric, and it was none of Wesker's business. Whatever encouraged William in the labs. But when Wesker had heard Annette was pregnant... he was downright repulsed. He thought them both fools, blinded by what he imagined they saw simply as conventional family obligations. He blamed Annette and the needs of her sex.

Sherry Birkin. Before the fall of Raccoon City he had only seen her on rare occasion. She was small and unremarkable and easy to put aside and forget. She'd peek out at them covertly with large eyes yearning for their focus, yearning for attention, always yearning. He liked to think of her as the Birkin's pet project. He wondered if they ever regretted her and the time she stole from their work; but he never once asked. It was none of his business. Instead he'd stare back at her, musing, and she'd eventually cow away. She was shy and he intimidated her with his silence and his unreadable gaze. On those rare occasions in the Birkin house, thinking on their unremarkable daughter, back when human tendencies were more pronounced for him, he would sometimes sympathize for her. It was always fleeting.

Sherry Birkin. She had survived the Raccoon City epidemic. He was vaguely amused when he had heard her name mentioned. Any interest he ever had for her was owed entirely to who her parents had been. Even still, it was not her lineage that drove Wesker to attain her, it was the gift Birkin had left for her and what it could potentially do for his research. He had taken her, and that he had kept her for a while after was owed to the novelty of possessing a keepsake of sorts from the past. A memorabilia not so unlike a faded, nostalgic photo. That he had sent her away instead of disposing of her like everything else that ceased to be useful to him... well, again that was owed to the Birkin name. In a way that was his respect for the years he had spent alongside brilliant William. In the end he owed William no animosity, and so he had stayed his hand.

Sherry Birkin. Years were spent without thought on the subject, and suddenly she should return, out of the ashes of his failure, as his greatest asset to his survival; to his continued efforts. So strange. His unrecognized ace-up-the-sleeve. His patience and his mercy had come to pay him back tenfold with this slap in the face. Funny how the unremarkable things so easily overlooked could someday become so very useful. Once again he owed success to the Birkin name. It was a fool who underestimated their worth, and he would be sure to never overlook the Birkin girl's potential again. No, he knew better now. He would be sure to utilize Sherry Birkin properly in his new designs.

* * *

_Beethoven - Sonata 14 "Mondscheinsonate"._


End file.
